


Adventures in Babysitting

by spikesgirl58



Series: Mouth of Babes [49]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya babysit their grandson for the first time.  What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures in Babysitting

 “It will be fine, Illya.”

At those words, Illya rolled his eyes skyward and sighed. “I’ve heard that enough to know that bad times are ahead for me.”

“What? When have I ever mislead you?”

“Will you take my word for it or shall I show you the scars?”

Napoleon laughed and slapped his hands together. “Excellent!  Then we are in agreement.  I’ll let the kids know.”  The man walked hurriedly from Illya’s office

“Why do I even bother to protest?” Illya asked no one in particular. It wasn’t that he exactly hated the idea of babysitting their grandson, but so many things could go wrong.   Illya winced as he slowly rose from the desk.  His hip was killing him today and while he was alone he had the luxury of not hiding the discomfort from the world.  Perhaps he did too good a job because there were times when he wasn’t sure even Napoleon remembered what Illya had gone through to get here and now.

He limped the short distance from the desk to the door and back again. With each step, the pain subsided a bit more.  Illya had just reseated himself when Napoleon walked in, a huge grin on his face.  “Okay, it’s set.  They’ll be expecting us at five tomorrow.”

“A.M. or P.M.?”

For a moment, Napoleon looked confused, then he grinned. “At night.  Lisle was so happy that she was crying.”

Illya had the feeling that any tears his daughter shed weren’t from joy, but from the terror of leaving her firstborn, residual post-partum hormones or both. She’d been with him constantly since his birth and even before, one might argue.  She’d not exactly opened up about her fears, but Illya sensed them, blaming her mother, Angelique, for instilling them.  He knew however it was time for Lisle to face them.  “It will be good for her to get out of the house.”

“My thoughts exactly. If she can’t trust Alex with us, who can she trust him with?”

                                                                ****

The journey from the apartment Illya shared with Napoleon was merely a few floors away from their small family. It had taken little effort to move Leon and Lisle into the same building.  It made sense as its security had been quietly reinforced once Napoleon had ascended to Section One, and as Leon was a fast track to his father, it was practical to keep them close at hand.  Illya had no doubt that both Lisle and Leon would take any intruder apart with their bare hands, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

Napoleon knocked on the door and it opened to wailing.

“Wow, it’s started already?” Illya grimaced as they entered.  Leon was not a mirror image of a younger Napoleon, but still the similarities were obvious.  He looked a bit embarrassed by it all.

“Yeah, though, I kinda thought it would be the baby crying.” Leon put his arm around Lisle’s shoulders.  “It’s only for a few hours, Lis.”  While Leon had his mother’s eyes, his demeanor was all his father’s, which was remarkable consider that Selena had kept their son from Napoleon until her death a few years earlier.

“But he’s so small and helpless.” Lisle blew her nose.  “I don’t want him to think I’m abandoning him.”

“Lis, you aren’t your mother. He’s six months old and it’s our dads.  You know they won’t do anything to hurt him.  I worry more about them.”

“But…”

“No buts, young lady.” Napoleon gathered her up in his arms and hugged her.  “We will treat him as the treasure he is and one day you will look back upon this and laugh.”

“I hope so.” She sniffed and picked up her son.  Alex grinned and gurgled.  “He’s been fed, bathed, changed, and burped.  He’s spitting up a lot and I think he’s working on a tooth, so don’t stick your finger or anything else you value into his mouth – trust me on this one. There are a couple of bottles in the fridge if he gets hungry.  He should be ready to sleep in a half hour.” Lisle kissed Alex and held him close.  “If you need anything, the restaurant where we will be and the doctor’s number are on the refrigerator door.”

“We’ll try to keep sharp objects away from him,” Illya said reassuringly, but his comment had the opposite effect.

“May we should just get take out,” Lisle suggested hopefully even as Leon eased their son out of her grasp.

“Maybe we need to go now before we’re late.”

Lisle sighed. “Call us for anything.”

“We will.”    Napoleon took his grandson and blew a raspberry on his stomach.  Alex squealed and giggled.  “There won’t be any trouble at all.”

The couple left and Napoleon looked over as Illya limped to the couch and sat. “From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Illya, I never took you for the religious type.” The communicator in Napoleon’s pocket beeped and Alex gave him a startled look, then began to whimper.  “Get used to that sound, Alex.  It’s the sound of world peace.”  He handed the baby to Illya and took a few steps away.

“Solo here.”

“I’m sorry to bother you at home, sir, but there’s been an incident in Belize.” Napoleon recognized his assistant’s voice. 

Napoleon darted a look over at Illya and gave him a weak smile. “Details?”

“Too sensitive for an open line, sir. We need you here.”

“Now?” Napoleon watched Illya shake his head and roll his eyes.

“I’m afraid so. All the Section Ones are gathering.  Your driver is on the way.”

“I understand. Solo out.”  He tucked away the pen.  “Illya, I’m so…”

“I’d accuse you of engineering this, but I trust Jessica too much to conspire with you. Just go and do what you need to.  Alex and I will hold down the fort.”  Illya held out his arms and Napoleon passed the baby over.

“Thanks. I’ll hurry.”

“You will do what is right. We will be fine.”

                                                                                ****

Illya regretted the words the moment after he said them. The door closed and Illya solemnly regarded his grandson.  “I don’t suppose you would be open for negotiations.”  Alex gurgled and waved a drool-covered fist at him.  “I didn’t think so.”  Illya looked around the apartment.  He was here frequently, but without Leon and Lisle, it seemed like foreign territory.

“How about a story, Alex?” Illya adjusted the baby to take more pressure off his hip.  What he really wanted was a cold drink and a hot bath, but both seemed years away now.  “I could tell you about the little snow girl, or Masha and the Bear. Although your uncles always seemed to favor Baba Yaga.”

Alex thrashed his arms and laughed.

“Oh, you like Baba Yaga, do you?” Illya smiled and held Alex up at arm’s length.  “Do you want to go flying and find her house that runs around on chicken feet?”

Alex’s answer was a stream of vomit. Illya turned his head and caught an earful. 

“You could have just said no?” Illya winced as the warm fluid oozed down his neck.  He grunted as he got up and placed Alex into his bassinet.  As quickly as he could move, he got to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth.  He mopped his neck and hair as best he could, wincing as Alex began to cry.

“I know how you feel.” He opened the bathroom cabinet and studied the contents until he found some aspirin.  Three of them were followed by a gulp of water and with a sigh, Illya returned to the scene of the crime. 

 

                                                                                ****

Napoleon did his best to get to the heart of the matter. Tanaka tended to ramble a bit at such times.  Gillian was half asleep, Rollins was annoyed that he wasn’t called first as the problem was in his area and Beatrice worked at trying to put the best light on the situation.  It took them just half an hour to get down to business and another to finally address the problem directly.

Jessica, Napoleon’s assistant, brought in a fresh pot of coffee and Napoleon raised a hand in thanks. She nodded and reseated herself at her desk. 

“I’m in favor of moving in troops--”

“From where? Belize is a Commonwealth nation.” Rollins interrupted Beatrice.  “I don’t have enough information to go to Her Majesty.”

“If you let me finish, Georges.” She was nice, but firm.  “We should ask Mexico to have troops standing by in case of an emergency.  I trust Belize to sort out their own mess.  They always have before.  The people in charge are strong and competent.  I’m actually mystified that we were contacted at all.”

“There was a whisper of THRUSH,” Tanaka said.

“There’s always the whisper of THRUSH.” Napoleon checked his paperwork. “However, we have UNCLE agents on the ground and they have reported back that there is no likely connection between this and THRUSH.  It appears to be a local matter.”

“I still want agents there,” Rollins muttered.

“I won’t pull them out until we are all satisfied that everything is well.” Napoleon stood.  “Now, I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep or have a good lunch and we’ll see what twenty four hours tells us.”

“What’s wrong, Napoleon? You have a hot date with a gorgeous blonde?”

Napoleon winced. Even though his swinging bachelor days were in the past, people still saw him as a playboy.  “Not really, unless you consider Illya a gorgeous blond.”

“Well, perhaps not to his face,” Gillian murmured.  “I think Napoleon is right.  Let’s see what our agents have to say.  You will let us know their report, Napoleon?”

“When I know something more, so will you.”

                                                                                ****

Alex eyed the bottle even as Illya was attempt to mop up the spit up on his shirt front. Lisle hadn’t been joking when she said Alex was spitting up.  Between that and the drool, Illya’s shirt front was soggy and his jacket was a lost cause.  Even his tie hung limp and defeated after Alex had grabbed it and started   chewing on it.  Any attempt to put Alex down was met with loud protests.  After it was apparent that his lungs were in better shape to take on Illya’s headache than Illya’s head was, he had admitted defeat.

His hip ached from alternating between holding, walking, rocking and jiggling his grandson. Eventually even that had failed to keep Alex happy and he wailed until he gave himself hiccups.  It would have been funny if Illya was in a better mood.

That’s when he realized that after several bouts of spitting up, the baby was likely hungry. Illya put Alex in his bassinet and limped to the kitchen.  He warmed up the milk, praying that it would result in a little quiet.

“I will cut a deal with you. You agree to not spit anymore of your dinner up on me and I will let you have more food.”

Alex gurgled and gave Illya a look that was either ‘I may well be agreeing with you or not’ expression. Illya secretly hoped it was the former.  He picked the baby back up and carrying him to the rocking chair.

It took Alex a mere second to latch onto the nipple and start sucking with all the force of a Hoover.

“Good god, I hope Lisle has stopped breast feeding you.” Illya’s chest ached in sympathy.  At least there was quiet and that was indeed joyful.

Illya was tempted to let the child continue to suck on the bottle, even after the milk was gone, but his mother had warned him that it led to gas.

Grabbing a cloth diaper, he draped it over his shoulder and adjusted Alex so that anything he might belch up would be caught. He patted the baby’s back gently and talked softly to him in Russian.  A burp followed and Illya lifted him down.

“Good boy.”

Alex promptly spit up his bottle all over Illya’s shirt front.

Napoleon picked that moment to come in and tried not to smirk at the sight. “What happened?”

“Alex is spitting up.”

“Apparently so.” Napoleon quickly stripped off his jacket and holster and found a diaper of his own.  “I think a changing of the guards might be in order.”  He hefted Alex up and winced.  “Oof.”

Illya watched Alex squint and grunt. “And a change of diaper as well.”  He looked down and grimaced at the brown stain on his arm.  “I am going to have to burn this shirt.”

“What a mess, Alex. You don’t do anything half way, do you, son?”  Napoleon quickly carried him to the changing table and stripped off the diaper.  There was a sudden explosion and Napoleon moaned at the sight of his splattered shirt.  “Illya!”

Illya was there in a few steps, his shirt now gone and his tee shirt looking weary. “I’ll get a wash cloth.”

He limped back to the bathroom and heard Napoleon shout. Grabbing a washcloth and towels, he hurried back.  Napoleon’s face was wet.

“I think maybe you two should just take a shower and be done with it.”

Alexander laughed and spit bubbled out of his mouth. “Is he ever done with it?”

“No idea, but I swear I’m going to nominate Lisle for sainthood.”

                                                                                ****

Napoleon exited the shower, towel drying his hair. He cringed as he walked into the bedroom, but Alex was peacefully sleeping in his bassinet.

“His Majesty has finally conked out?”

“He has. I figured out it was probably his mouth making him so grumpy, so I fell back on an old cure that my mother used to use for teething pain.”

“Which is?”

“Vodka.” Illya held up a glass.

“You didn’t give a six-month old vodka to drink?”

“No, the glass is mine. I just rubbed his gums with it.”  Illya shook his hand.  “He bites.”

“You are right. Lisle does deserve an award.”  Napoleon draped the towel around his neck and collapsed down onto the couch.  “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

“Tell me another.”

“No, I’m fine now. I took a pain pill when I went upstairs to get us a change of clothes.  Better living through chemistry.”

“You’re mixing drugs and alcohol?” Napoleon made a noise and settled back against the cushions, his feet on the magazine-strewn coffee table.  “I don’t know how the kids do it.”

“Experience, although I was worried about Alex. He seems to have settled down, though.”  Illya checked his watch.  “I haven’t been vomited upon in nearly two hours.”

The sound of a key in the lock made both men reach for their weapons, which were hanging on the coat rack by the front door.

Napoleon was on his feet and sprinting just as Leon opened the door.

“Hi, Chief, so ready to be out of here?”

Lisle pushed past him and went to Alex. “Aw, look at him sleeping like an angel.  I don’t know what you did, but thank heavens.”

“Did you have a good time?” Illya didn’t bother to move.  The combination of the pain medication and alcohol had wrapped him in a pleasant hazy blanket.

“We did.” She looked at the bottle and made a face.  “Looks like you did, too.”

“I earned it. Your son could drop THRUSH to its knees in a matter of minutes.”

“And that’s on one of his good days. You should see him when he’s crabby.”  Lisle kissed his cheek.  “Was he very bad?”

“No, just very willing to share his bodily fluids with us.”

“I did warn you.”

“It’s also great that you’re both here now.” Leon slapped his hands together and laughed.  “We have some great news.”

“They’ve found the answer to how four ounces of formula can equal twenty four ounces of vomit?” Napoleon asked, slapping his son on the back.

“Even better than that, chief. Lisle’s pregnant.  We’re going to be parents.”

“You already are parents.” Illya pointed out, getting to his feet slowly.

“Yeah, but maybe this next one, we’ll will be in charge,” Leon said, smiling. “If not, my gorgeous wife will whip him or her into shape just like she’s done with Alex.”

“Illya, pass the bottle.” Napoleon held out his hand and Illya handed him the baby bottle.  “No, I mean the vodka.  I think we’re going to need it.”

 


End file.
